Of Saddles and Sores (Anna Brodie peer mod)

[Greyton Burhook]

2nd Pontius, Spring Era XIV pf

The Darkening approached. Light faded and retreated back into the sky. Greyton Burhook led a small herd of minicattle through the scrubland of the heartlands and decided to set up camp near a small stream. The small convoy of man and cowflesh drank deep and began to settle down for a leisurely darkening.

Greyton led his small Plainsbred mare and gave her a good brushing down. While Greyton was not a horseman by any means, he thought that him and Pie were becoming friends. One of these days, Greyton promised himself, I'm going to learn to ride you and not have to lead you around by the reins. However, Pie was proving her worth by being a pack animal.

"We'll gallop one day ol' girl..." He nuzzled her neck before letting her graze, making sure she was tied down to a pole with an ample amount of rope.

The horse was his only friend other than Ol' Dawg, the one-eyed lead steer that Greyton used to help direct the herd. Ol' Dawg was a grouchy beast, but Greyton and him had an understanding...Greyton fed him carrots and Ol' Dawg did not stab him while he slept.

Greyton began to build a fire from some kindling and firewood he brought along. A pan came out and he looked to make up some pork and beans. The fire caught and while the pork and beans lit he took out his lasso and tossed a couple practice throws at a young minicalf who strayed to close.

What a life!

[Anna Brodie]

They came out of the gathering dusk, a horse bearing two riders approaching the small camp with leisurely pace. The horse was a proud beast, with a golden coat and long white mane and tail, yet its usual haughty step was tempered with tiredness from the brightening’s ride. Coming from the opposite side of the stream, the man reined his mount in to a standstill and looked over at Greyton as he practised his lasso technique.

“Serale there,” he called out over the water, holding one hand up in friendly overtone. His voice scored with a huskiness that spoke of a penchant for liquor. “Got room for a pair of wanderers by your fire, friend?”

The man gave the impression of one who lived in the saddle, sitting with ease and reins gathered in one hand. He wore a wide brimmed hat that shaded his face during the brightening, and clothes which were practical rather than stylish, muted tones of brown dulled further by the dust of the road. Behind him sat a woman of the lithe and tall variety, ash blonde hair scraped back into a long braid and wearing a long brown hooded cloak. She was silent, one arm wrapped around the waist of the man and wore a sullen expression in contrast to the friendly grin of the man, blue eyes flickering over the prepared camp and herd of small cattle which were settling for the night.

[Greyton Burhook]

Greyton stopped, the lasso hung around the calf's shoulders for a moment before the young cowpoke slowly digested the newcomers. The Heartlands was full of unsavory characters and Greyton was not some young greenhorn. Slowly and deliberately he gathered back the rope while replying in a lazy drawl.

"Serale, friend." He greeted in kind and waved. "There's always room around a fire for those of a kindly disposition. I got some grub on the fire, welcome to share. I hope you got your own plates, I ain't got none but my own."

Greyton waved for them to cross the river and walked back to the fire. He stirred the pot of pork and beans, took a taste and hissed from the temperature.

"It's about done there partner," He grabbed his towel and lifted the dutch oven off the fire and onto the nearby ground to cool down. "Why don't you get your saddle off and come and et."

Naturally curious if the two approached he would whistle over the fineness of the horse.

"That there is a fine-looking specimen of horseflesh partner." He said with a smile. He wondered what the story was with these two riding together on the same horse. Was there trouble? Only reason he'd think that they'd burden the horse with double the weight. However, Greyton thought it impolite to ask right off- if they'd decide to share that was fine. Here in the Heartlands, one's business was ones own.

"Names Greyton Burhook, I'm a rancher- well, a ranch hand to be more exact. I'm running this herd down back to the forests around Natura." He looked at the woman with momentary glance of curiousness and gave her a polite tip of the hat. "How do ma'am?" He greeted her.

[Anna Brodie]

On Greyton’s invitation, the horse and riders picked their way over the river by a shallow crossing and walked over to the campfire, the woman sliding off first and then the man dismounting.

“Well, that’s mighty fine of you, thank you friend,” the man said. He took his hat off, revealing a face aged prematurely by the suns’ rays and outdoor living, but sitting somewhere close to forty ordinations. Rough stubble covered his jaw, and dirty blonde hair was cut to his jaw line. Perhaps he’d been a handsome man in his youth, but was past any vanity and when he grinned some teeth were missing from the upper row. Tall and lean, he moved with a rolling swagger. “Not often folks are so welcoming and to show appreciation, I’ve got something in the saddle bag that’ll help wash down a meal. The name’s Jud Cunningham. Travelling on through from Lauryl, not quite sure where we’re gonna end up.”

The woman remained silent, standing in the shadow of Jud and watching the proceedings. A tall woman, skinny rather than slender, with a gaunt face that made her cheekbones angular, in her mid twenties. She shoved hood of her cloak back and waited, blue eyes fixed on Greyton with blank expression. Any warmth from the pair generated from her companion, Jud.

“Thankee, Greyton,” Jud continued with a pat on his horse’s neck in response to the admiration. “Jessie’s a good gal. We’ve been through a lot together. Damn clever horse but loyal to the bone.” There was a moment’s pause while Greyton’s greeting to the woman went unacknowledged, before Jud cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you take Jessie to the river and get her watered, hun?” he said, slipping the saddlebags off the horse himself and giving the reins to the woman, who silently obliged and led the horse away. Jud watched her go for a brief moment before turning back to Greyton. “Anna ain’t the most talkative type,” he explained in shrugged apology. “But I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing in a woman.”

He grinned and winked, hunkering down by the campfire and fishing a flask out of the saddlebags. He inhaled the aroma of the warming beans and pork expansively. “Damn this smells good. Care for a taste of liquor, friend?” he asked holding the flask out to Greyton.

[Greyton Burhook]

Greyton's eyes wandered from the girl and horse to Jud's flask. His hand took it gently and uncorked the top. Greyton's face broke open into a wide grin and answered his question.

"Does a bear poop in the woods?" The cowpoke sniffed it for a moment and gave an apprieciative cough. "Damnation! You can et the paint off a Temple Wall with this stuff!" Greyton guffawed. He brought the flask to his lips and tilted his head back. He took a long pull and sucked in a bunch of air through his teeth. He pounded his foot into the ground and gave a whoop.

"Wow-ee! That there is the answer! Much oblieged Jud, much oblieged. What is that stuff?" Greyton shook his head and turned his attention to the meal. He grabbed a nearby spoon and stirred the contents. He looked at Jud, then at Anna, and back to Jud. "You might want to tell your lady friend that we's got ourselves a bonifide rustic banquet on our hands. By the looks of it it'll take a herd of mustangs to get a word from that one. But, as you said, perhaps it's all for the best. If everyone was a talker, who would listen?" Greyton then would occupy himself with serving the pork and beans to his new friends.

[Anna Brodie]

Jud grinned at the younger man’s appreciation of the throat-burning liquor, taking a good sip from the flask himself which elicted a grunt of his own in reaction to the fiery distillation. “It ain’t got a name really. Got it from a halfling some miles back yonder with his own lil set up in his shack,” he replied, passing a couple of wooden bowls from the saddle bags to Greyton for the food. He nodded at Greyton’s suggestion, and looked over his shoulder. “Hey Anna, grub’s up hun!”

The woman didn’t react, seemingly engrossed in attending to the horse, taking off the saddle and rubbing the mare down. Jud looked back to Greyton and shrugged. “She’ll be over when she’s ready I guess. I used to think she was hard of hearing or something, but that ain’t the case. Never know what’s going on in her mind, but she picks and chooses what she hears or something.” There was another glance over his shoulder before Jud tucked into the pork and beans. “But she’s a purdy thing all right. Sure does make the nights a lil warmer having some company. Found her wandering on the borders of Lauryl, covered in dirt and like a walkin’ skeleton. She cleaned up right and fine, but I’m damned if I can get her story out of her.”

The man stretched out his legs, settling himself in for a long night around the camp fire. “You got yourself a nice horse there yerself, Greyton, if you don’t mind my saying,” Jud said, noticing the younger man’s mount tied up nearby. “You had her long?”


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